I am considering sending you a story. It only has a working title right
now, "Deicide". It is rather considerable in length, that's why I'm querying.
It's about a man who lives in a cold and heartless city, and feels that
God has forgotten all about him. He is a rather nasty, and perverse character,
but lovable nonetheless. He ends up trying to kill what he hates, and this
is where the original part comes in. He dies, and tries to kill God. The
very end of the story is too good to give away in a query letter. It is
just slightly over 5,000 words. If you are interested in it please let
me know.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

An hour passes . . .

Hi Joshua,

Send it in. I can't promise that I'll post the story but I'll certainly
read it through and tell you what I think. 5000 words is not a problem.
I look forward to checking it out . . . But first, could you tell me how
you found Eyeshot?

Thanks,

The Editors

Days pass . . . nothing.

Hey Mr. Beavers:

Did you decide not to send deicide?

The Editors

Days pass . . .

Dear Eyeshot,

I will be sending it eventually, I'm still putting the finishing touches
on it, I wil send it as soon as I can.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

Days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

I am submitting to you my story Getting
Rid of It. Previously I have had work accepted by ...ad infinitum,
aphelion, evening gossip, an anthology from Pocol Press, 69FoP, and others.
This story is approximately 6,000 words, and I have queried you about this.
It is in both attatchment form, and in the body of this email.

If you explain why you wrote the following exchange, I'll read the
story closer:

"This is so god damn cliche" said the whore."I know, but there's a reason why it's cliche,"

I guess I'm not sure exactly what's going on or why . . . why did
you take the time to write this? You're fantasizing about whores and needles
and chamber pots and a Big City and a murder of crows flying off like a
cloud, but I don't think these things actually exist: although I've been
to several big cities, and although I can't remember ever seeing a chanber
pot, all of the whores I've ever met eat cheeseburgers and love strawberry
milkshakes or they have parents or their own children. What I mean is they're
never animated and their dialogue doesn't appear in a blurb above them.
Eyeshot's motto is "litter for the ill and literate" but I think the "literate"
part means an understanding of subtexts and motivations, like why are you
writing this story and submitting it to be posted online: why don't you
live it?

Editor

Days pass . . .

Dear Eyeshot,

That's a fantastic question, I have been sitting at my computer for
quite sometime thinking of a way to respond to it. You see the
story has many layers of irony, and satire. In essence the story is
satirical of itself, as well as mainstream culture. See, writing the story
I was fully aware of how cliche the ways of the whores were. In this day
in age we have managed to make almost everything a cliche, and the irony
is that we have made the word cliche, cliche. If you look at the dialogue
in the story it serves several purposes. The most obvious is to set up
the scene, make them seem at ease together, so they can continue.

Another is simply for the atmosphere, ie, the language. The fact that
they are realizing their own cliche actions is almost humourus, and hints
at reminding the audience that perhaps the characters realise that they
are only characters, and that in knowing this, that we ourselves are only
chracters, and can't begin to realize our existence. And finaly it adds
to the God concept in the whole story. He says it is GOD damn cliche, meaning
that it is cliche because it is damned by God. Adding to the obscure theme
that things that are so common, are damned by God because they aren't original,
or as some may consider, beautiful.

In response to your question, why aren't I living the story, well because
the world in the story doesn't exist, it is completely fictional, and isn't
even loosly based on any real part of the real world. Perhaps instead of
calling it "The Big City", I could have called it "the place for people
who fantasize about dirty, gritty, and and on some level, sickly romantic,
cities where only a lonely hero could live". Well, I hope that this helps
you, if it doesn't I'm sure that it will confuse you to pieces.

You asked if I liked the story. Actually I hadn't read the story
when I sent the first transmission, or to be more precise, I couldn't hang
with the dialogue and the scene; I was distracted by typographical and
other sorts of errors. In the fourth sentence, skin is "taut," not "taught"
to the bone; unless you're Joyce and you're playing with language to introduce
how this story is a parable and foreshadowing how Pepe will be subsequently
instructed, I'd probably spell "taut" correctly because most readers would
notice the "error" immediately and stop reading otherwise. There's also
a lot of imprecise language (eg, "he threw his arm" . . . . I was hoping
that he had a detachable arm he could actually remove and throw at the
harlot) . . .

But these don't mean I don't like it entirely. After I received your
defense of the "cliche exchange," I printed up the story and read it through
. . .

Pepe does damnable things, wants to take it to God, he "releases
upon his target a stopped volley of silent shock [I have no idea what that
is]," and is reborn as the superintendent's child.

An allegory. Questions: But why does Pepe do what he does? Why do
you do what you do [write about Pepe]? Because Pepe defected from Cuba
for the wonders of American slums and is fighting off his Catholic upbringing
with whores and cocksuckers and heroin? When you try to kill God you kill
yourself? Only when you do yourself can you be reborn? When you are reborn
you are the son of the building's owner instead of a tenant? What's that
mean? That you can move from occupying a room (ie, a cliche) to being someone
who will inherit the building (ie, originality). Does any of this make
sense?

Do I like the story?
Yes and no. It's way too long, it's written way too blandly for a metafictional
story, which is typically extravagantly overwritten, and the descriptions
after lines of dialogue are flabby such as "homosexual flare;" however,
I like that you could argue that all of it is intentional . . . you tried
to make it this way to support the cliche, to make the cliche as strong
as possible . . . and then afterwards, like Pepe, you can be reborn
and write something else that lives in its own building.

Joshua, please don't think I'm ragging on the story entirely. I think
it's ambitious. I mean, who kills God in their stories?!? Anyway, I liked
your reply and I look forward to seeing your response to this message.
I guess I'm trying to provoke you. As I said I'd like to weave this transcript
of e-mails throughout the story in a different color/font or along the
borders or have it accessible with pop-up windows. I'm interested in doing
new things, and your story seems like the perfect vehicle for that: it's
entirely piss-poor/cliched and it's entirely excellent/original: just like
the Internet. What do you think?

Editor

An hour passes . . .

Dear Editor,

You bring up several bad deas. I'll deal with the matter of language
first. You are the first of two editors to bring up the issue of language
today. Perhaps at some points it is too bland, but I would argue that at
other points it is too extravagant. In some cases I have specifically worded
sentences in a way that wouldn't normally make sense, or be used. When
I say "he released upon his target a volley of silent shock" I am describing
him shooting himself in the head. His target is his head, the volley, is
from the shotgun, and the silent shock is because I am assuming (I've never
killed myself, I wouldn't know) the you would feel the shock of the shotgun
before you hear the sound. Your theory of allegory, is mostly ridiculous.
I'm sure anyone could see it as an allegory for something or other, but
I didn't. He isn't some defect from Cuba, etc. Interesting, but has nothing
to do with the story. The super is merly seen as a good christian who looks
on the brighter side of life, Pepe being born as his child is just Pepe
getting a second chance, I believe the last line(s) say this. And why he
hates God is mainly due to his shitty life, his whore habit, drinking habit,
etc.

Instead of blaming himself he blames God. And as you may have picked
up, I touch on the Buddist theory that you and only you can be your own
saviour. So him blaming God is ironically him blaming himself, I particularily
like
this part of the story.
Your latter comments about the language have no bearing. I don't, or never
did car if I was using the language that is normally used in this type
of fiction. If I used the lanuage others did, I would get bored with writing,
and quit.

I would like to know more about eyeshot.net. I couldn't find an "about"
page there, so I'm a little in the dark. I would like to know more about
your audience, like what kind of people read it, and how many people read
it. What is your goal with it? How long has it been around, stuff like
that. I like your idea about comments, and these emails. I think it would
really help to give the reader some more insight into it. I can give you
a biographical statement later, I really loath writing the damn things.
I am very interested in learning more about eyeshot.net, it looks like
a fantastic site, and very well put together.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

Days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

It's been a couple of days since your last email. Our correspondence
seemed rather regular, then it cut off. I'm not at all worried, but get
back to me with what ever you were to say when you can.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

Days pass . . .

Joshua,

I'm glad to see you've matched the mold I set of insult followed
by flattery. First you say my "deas" about your story are "bad" and then
you admire Eyeshot, as if it were something I was only involved with casually.
Although I am the sole editor, I have forwarded your
story and responses to others involved with the site; they've told
me not to "waste my time playing with you." I, however, don't think that's
what's going on at all . . . . Shit, I'm having fun corresponding and I'd
like to see the transcript that's developing to be posted online with your
story somehow. When I say "fun," I mean I feel there's something to get
at here: I'm enjoying digging at the scabs to get down through the veins,
though never to the heart, no?

Ha. Ha.

You seem to be cooperating and I'm interested in wasting my time,
not because I love your story or the writing, but mostly because you've
spent a shitload of time (although apparently not too much devoted to copyediting)
to fantasize, type, and transmit a potentially publishable world and worldview.
Why? Why did you write this? Where did the idea come from? What kind of
pleasure did you get from writing it? Why should people read this? What
sort of enjoyment do you expect? Why would imitating a style make you quit
writing? How is this story not an imitation of a style?

Taken on a literal level, this story is similar to a reworking of
the Book of Job, but instead of getting tested by God, Pepe chooses more
plagues to punish his sins, and then steals God's power and kills himself.
I know you're loath to endure overreading, but if I read it just as it
is, I don't think I'd finish page one. Here's your chance to champion all
the potential subtexts and latencies within the story that an overly close
reading can dredge up . . . These "bad" ideas are legitimate; academics
make fortunes appyling literary theories to stories about idiots waiting
for a impending power who never comes . . .

I guess the overall question is why read something that you don't
interpret? For me, literature is a conjunction of forces that can improve
readers' perception so that their lives are interpretable and thereby crammed
with possible meaning, some true and some far-flung, but nevertheless possible.
This sort of force, if properly wielded, could down pharmaceutical companies
that prosper from selling antidepressants, because all those that consider
their lives and translate it into a private literature of reports &
allegories may develop confidence, and this might lead to a fulfillment
that will ween them off of bullshit cultural crap. Whatever, right? No
ideas. Just write a story. Fine. It's a hell of a lot easier to say that
you just got the idea and went with it than to say this story is the first
in a series of 1000 more that you need to tell each night to stay alive
. . .

You asked about Eyeshot . . . Launched in August 1999. Visits steadily
increasing. No advertising accepted, no advertisements out in the
world. Just a few stickers in NYC bathrooms, etc. Currently located in
Princeton NJ, although will most likely be relocating to Brooklyn by August.
Sites that I know link to Eyeshot include Webdelsol.com
(got them Yahoo sunglasses for lit sites; Eyeshot's at the top of the "hot
sol links" page), Barcelonareview.com
(excellent bilingual sitefrom Spain), and Perishablerecords.com
(supernice Chicago indy rock label; check out the interview with Tim
Rutili of Califone [about mexican crossdressers and other stuff] ).
I got the idea to launch Eyeshot after having a piece
at the Barcelona Review last year. All I can say about myself is that
I'm donating a little time and meagre resouces to posting writing that
I think isn't just dull-as-fuck academic or cliched trash: I don't think
your story falls in either of these categories.

Editor

Four days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

I am becoming quite concerned, you seemed rather excited about my story,
and I have not heard from you for quite some time now. I don't know if
the www gobbled up your messege, but I haven't heard anything from you
for quite a while.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

Days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

What's going on, it's been almost a week since you emailed me.

The following message is sent several times, to no reponse . . .

Hey Joshua . . . I've sent this to you 4X over the last few days.
Something's wack with your e-mail?

Editor

Even more days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

I'm very worried, it has been a while since I've heard from you.

Thanks,

josh beavers

Approximately three weeks pass . . .

Dear Editor,

I'm now assuming that either you have listened to your friends and decided
to ignore me, or the entire Internet is just plain fucked up. I suspect
the latter. Anyways if this whole thing isn't working you should probably
just publish the story
and what you have of our conversation. It's not perfect but hey, it will
inspire much ado about nothing. So do as you feel, it is your pub. I'll
check by the site to see if you've done this.

Exactly ten days pass . . .

Dear Editor,

I've missed our correspondence. Perhaps I will get yet another email
address, and hopefully it will work for us. I'll send word then.

Thanks,

josh beavers

Hi Josh,

Sorry I've been out of touch. Much going on. I've been learning a
few web tricks and will wait to put your story up until I can properly
do mouseovers: I think that would be the best way present the story's text
and the correspondence.

I hope all is well, I can only assume that it is. I've been visiting
the site lately and I like the changes, but that's enough ass kissing for
now, I was thinking about my story "Getting Rid of It" and reading our
correspondence and I became excited about the whole venture again. I was
wondering when I would see the story/correspondence on the site.

Thanks,

Josh Beavers

Only three days pass . . .

Josh,

I just moved to Brooklyn, which is nice. Now that I'm in NYC, I've
decided to change the home page just about everyday, putting up new stuff
that's accumulated, that I've promised to post but have been too lazy or
otherwise occupied to get online . . . and so, expect to see your
rejection up soon . . . you'll be in good company with carlton
mellick the 3rd who just had a piece published at the in posse review,
which i think is part of the yahoosunglasses-wearing lit behemoth known
as webdelsol.com.

I still haven't seen anything like the "rejections" on any other
sites, so there you go: you'll be the second of something that's something
of a first.